


Take me to Church

by oh_imintrouble



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Castiel Needs a Hug, Castiel and Dean in Love, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Human Castiel, M/M, Priest Castiel, mentions of abuse, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_imintrouble/pseuds/oh_imintrouble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away." Corinthians 13:4</p>
<p>Growing weary of drug-induced hallucinations, Castiel seeks refuge in the Catholic church. He may stop seeing things when he's awake, but that doesn't stop the nightmares, the voices. Still, he finds comfort in the church. But is everything as it seems?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away." Corinthians 13:4_

* * *

 

“Fuck get out of my head!” Castiel cried, sliding down the wall to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest, crossing his arms over his head. His breathing was coming in short bursts, not nearly enough oxygen reaching his lungs. Someone took hold of his wrists, causing him to break out in a short sob. “No! No! No, let go of me!” He screamed, thrashing his arms the best he could, and slammed his head back against the wall.

“Cas, calm down! It’s me! It’s Dean!” Dean begged, moving to hold both of his wrists with one hand so the other could grab his head. He knotted his fingers in his hair, keeping him from hitting his head again, and pressed his forehead against his.

The other stared up at him, his eyes wide and bloodshot. His body continued to shudder, his heart still racing in his chest. He looked all around the room, his gaze resting on something just behind his boyfriend. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he whimpered as he tried pushing himself back. If he just tried hard enough maybe the wall would cease to be there and he could get away, get away from Dean, get away from this room, and get away from that thing that just wouldn’t go away.

“It’s a bad trip, baby, that’s all it is,” Dean murmured, clutching his shoulders now instead of his hands. This way he could keep him from trying to get away. He frowned when he stared at something past him, and quickly looked over his shoulder. Though there was nothing there he still felt...uneasy. But paranoia was a side effect right? That’s all it was, they were paranoid. All those voices Cas said he heard, the creatures he thought he saw, it was all just in his head. He noticed Cas shudder and held him close, bringing him in with his arms wrapped tight around his shoulders.

Cas buried his nose in Dean’s collarbone, clutching the sides of his shirt in his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, trying with everything in him to make the voices go away. “Dean, it just won’t stop,” he whimpered, chancing a glance behind him again. Another sob escaped him when he saw it’d gotten closer, and he pushed against his boyfriend. “Out, we need out.” This time Dean released him, and turned away from him, immediately trying to claw himself up the wall. He went to run to the door, but quickly turned on his heel when he remembered his boyfriend. “Now, Dean, we need to leave!”

Dean frowned as he tried tugging on his arm, and sighed as he rubbed his hand over his face. He’d already come down, but apparently Cas hadn’t. He jerked his arm out of his grip, and glared up at the other man. “For fucks sake, Cas, there’s nothing there. There’s never anything there,” he snapped, pushing himself up to his feet. He threw his arms out in a wide gesture, looking around the room as he did. “Nothing. Fucking. Nothing.”

Castiel had an almost wild look in his eyes as he moved back against the door. He crossed his arms over his chest, clutching at his forearm and frantically moving his thumb against the track marks there. “I can’t stay here, Dean,” he breathed, tears falling down his cheeks as he finally looked back at his boyfriend. “I can’t,” he sobbed, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

Dean stared him down a moment, narrowing his eyes at the other. He wanted so badly to stay angry, to lash out and tell him just how stupid he was being...but he’d seen that look before. That look of panic, of fear. He sighed and scratched the top of his head, letting it drop forward a moment. “Cas, I-” he stopped, glancing up at him from under his lashes. He didn’t want to be the cause of this. He couldn’t be the cause of this. “C’mere,” Dean murmured, reaching out to him. He took hold of his arms, gently rubbing his thumbs over the scars on his skin. He ducked his head down some to catch his eye, then cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, okay? You know I love you, right? And I would never let anything happen to you?”

Cas swallowed thickly, his brows furrowed, and chanced a glance past him. It was still there, just...just watching, waiting. He looked back at his boyfriend, and gave a slight nod. “I know,” he murmured, his voice small. “I...I-I love you too.”

Dean gently caressed his jawline, running his thumb along the stubble, before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “We’ll go, okay?” He murmured, nudging his nose against his. Cas gave a shaky nod, and he returned it with a sad smile. “We can go back to my place, you can stay the night with me” he offered, dropping his hands down to his waist. When Cas agreed he nudged him back towards the door, moving his hand down from his waist to hold his belt loop.

Castiel let him lead the way out of the warehouse, doing his best to keep from looking at anyone they passed. That was where everyone went to avoid the outside world, to escape their own grim realities through drugs. Everyone had their vice, whether it was something as lowkey as marijuana, or the heavier shit. There were dirty, broken sofas along some of the walls, the others holding shabby mattresses, cushions, anything really beat sitting on the cold concrete. Some people were too high to even notice them walk by, but others gave slight waves, the looks on their faces ranging from crooked grins to disdainful glares. Everyone there knew Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester, which unfortunately meant they also knew the demons they were trying to escape.

Dean had his dad, an angry alcoholic since his mother died. He often neglected his boys, only coming home in the wee hours of the morning in a blind fury. Whenever he sobered up he tried to “make it up to them,” took them hunting or down to the Roadhouse, whatever he thought would make them forgive his behavior. Cas’s father...he wasn’t an alcoholic, no, he didn’t have any excuse to fall back on after he beat him. He was just an angry, bitter man who took any opportunity there was to lay his hand on Cas.

When the two boys met each other there was friction. Dean thought Cas was just some quiet, goody goody asshole who spent far too much time at school than he thought completely necessary, and to Cas? Dean was just some loser. Some stupid, attractive loser that was just going to make his life that much harder if he had to continue to see him. They found themselves stuck spending time with each other after school whenever Dean’s father was late getting him and Castiel’s father just didn’t want to show his face. As it turned out, they had more in common than they thought.

It didn’t take long for the two to get closer. They started to find comfort in each other, in knowing they weren’t alone. After seeing each other for a few months, Dean introduced him to his friends--several individuals that frequented the warehouse and invited them to join one weekend. While Cas was uneasy at first, Dean had no issues with shooting up. He found it made him feel better than he had in years--better yet, it made him happy. Because at least when he was high he didn’t have to think about his problems. For Castiel, it just seemed to create more. Still he would accompany Dean, would take part in whatever was given to him. He thought that maybe, just maybe, it would make him feel better too.

Dean led the way to the Impala, letting Cas slid in through the driver’s side. He drove back to the apartment he got after he graduated, leaving the radio on the lowest volume. It was more peaceful than it was before, and for that he was thankful. He felt Cas slid closer, and glanced over at him, putting on a smile for his boyfriend.

“Hey,” he murmured, taking his hand in his and intertwining their fingers. He brought his knuckles to his lips for a soft kiss, then held it on the seat between them. “If you’re scared of that place we don’t have to go back,” he offered, giving him a reassuring squeeze. With everyone going on at home for him, he didn’t want to make things worse. He just wanted to make Castiel happy, make him feel safe. He’d offered to let him live with him time and time again, but he always said no.

“Thank you Dean,” Cas said after a moment, finally speaking up again. He watched him a moment as he drove, appreciating the way the streetlights illuminated his face. He slid closer, almost a little shy as he lay his head on his shoulder. “I love you.” They were dysfunctional at best, broken in just about every way, but at least while they were together Cas felt just a little more whole.

Dean smiled and slipped his hand from his to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “Love you too, Cas.”

.

Dean rolled his hips up into him, arms hooked under his knees to push them up against his chest. He started slow at first, giving the other man time to adjust, and when he was sure he’d adjusted he picked up the pace. “Fuck, Cas,” he groaned, ducking his head down to pepper kisses along his cheek, his jaw, down his neck to his collarbone where he sucked a deep, purple bruise onto his skin.

Castiel arched his body up towards him, his breath catching in his throat. He wrapped his arms around his waist, clutching his shoulder blades in his hands, digging his nails into his skin. He dropped his head back into the pillow as he sucked another hickey onto his throat, a low moan escaping him. His face was flushed a deep red, his blush spreading to his ears when he realized the noise he’d made. While Castiel had grown to be comfortable enough to let Dean see all of him, to touch all of him with his hands--even his tongue--he could never quite get used to how his body reacted. It was...sinful, really, just how good he could make him feel.

His boyfriend’s moan was like music to his ears, and the scratching did nothing but encourage him. He angled his hips to hit that sweet spot of his, smirking when another, louder moan rocked through Cas’s body. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his voice low and husky. Cas hooked his ankles together in the small of his boyfriend’s back, breath hitching in his throat as it brought him in harder, deeper.

Dean wrapped one now free hand around his neglected cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. He set his other hand on his hip, pressing his thumb against the protruding bone. Cas practically whimpered at all the contact to his erogenous zones, digging his nails into his skin with more force. He moved one hand up into his hair, knotting his fingers in his soft, brown locks. His labored breath sounded far too loud to his own ears, and he leaned up, pressing his lips to Dean’s in a heated kiss in hopes of drowning it out. Their kiss was messy, all clacking of teeth and clumsy, fumbling movements of their tongues.

Dean finally pulled away to breathe, puffing out labored pants as he strengthened his thrusts. He squeezed his boyfriend’s cock, and stroked him faster, his other arm just above Cas’s head. “C’mon baby,” he grunted, resting his forehead against his. He repeated that phrase with each thrust until Cas arched up into him, crying out as he spilled his seed on his belly.

Cas’ body fell almost limp after Dean pulled out, his legs slipping down from around his waist and his arms resting above his head. “Fuck,” he panted, rubbing his hand over his face, a shy smile coming to his lips. He looked up at his boyfriend with a hazy, affectionate gaze, his cheeks flushed. He reached one hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him down for a chaste kiss. “I love you,” he murmured, nudging his nose against his.

The other man smiled, nuzzling him a moment before falling to his side. “I love you too,” he said, reaching up to cup his face in his hand, lovingly rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead before pushing himself out of bed and onto his feet. “I’m gonna go grab a beer. You can shower if you want, you know where everything is.”

Cas simply nodded, crossing one arm behind his head as he watched him move around the room, thoroughly appreciating the view as he bent over to pull on a pair of sweatpants. He gave an almost innocent smile when Dean narrowed his eyes at him, and pointedly turned his gaze to the ceiling. Only when he heard the door to his bedroom close did he push himself out of bed and venture towards the bathroom. He opted to simply dampen a towel and clean up that way in lieu of taking a real shower. All he really wanted to do was put on some pajamas, curl up with Dean, and go to bed.

After cleaning his stomach off he went back to the bedroom and found a pair of sweatpants in his dresser. He took one of his old band t-shirts, and got dressed before making his way to the kitchen. “Dean, are you-” he stopped dead in his tracks, his blood running cold. “Dean!”

Dean was on the floor of the kitchen, his body convulsing and seizing violently. His eyes were wide and fearful, blood falling like tears down his cheeks. Cas struggled to breathe as he ran and dropped to his boyfriend’s side, his hands shaking as he tried to stabilize him. “No no no no no,” Cas cried, trying his hardest to pin his shoulders down to the floor. When he realized he wasn’t strong enough he grabbed the phone off the wall, dialing 911. He stumbled over his words at first, struggling with even maintaining a coherent thought, before he was able to get out a simple, “Please send help.”

This couldn’t be happening. Cas had to have been having another nightmare. He would wake up beside Dean like he always did and his boyfriend would hold him until he calmed down. Cas slid down to the floor, and gently shook the other man’s shoulder, his breath hitching in his throat. “Dean,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “Dean, please.” He stayed by his side until the paramedics got there, clutching his hand long after his body had grown cold.


	2. Chapter 2

_"He entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption." Hebrews 9:12_

* * *

 

“I um, I-I’ve never done this before, so I’m sorry if…” Cas stuttered, dropping his gaze down to his lap where he was toying with his fingers. “S-sorry, um… Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was...never...and these are my sins. I, ah...I-I have used the Lord's name in vain, lied to people, was selfish, I haven't attended church in...years, I’ve abused drugs, um, had premarital sex.”

The priest on the other side of the screen hummed thoughtfully, causing Cas to swallow a bit thickly. He was going to recognize his voice, he would remember everything he said and confront him and tell him he didn’t belong there and- "For your penance, please pray six Hail Marys. Now, God the Father-”

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Unless you have other things to confess, then yes. Now, let us pray. God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace. I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."

“Amen…”

"God has forgiven your sins. Go in peace."

Cas frowned, his brows furrowed, and nervously picked at the front of his trousers as the priest spoke. It’d been months since Dean. The doctors all described the incident as an overdose, refusing to supply any more information to him since he wasn’t family. Not that it mattered really. All that mattered now was Castiel was alone. He couldn’t go home, and he certainly couldn’t go stay with any friends--all the friends he had were through Dean, without him around they didn’t particularly care for Cas. The only place left really was the church. He’d grown up Catholic, and was taught if he ever needed help he could get it from the church.

He waited a moment to leave the confessional, rubbing away the tears in his eyes as he did. It felt good to be told he was forgiven. It felt good to be clean. The nightmares didn’t really go away after he joined, but at least the hallucinations stopped for a few weeks. Castiel missed Dean more than words could ever express, but he was feeling better. Well...not necessarily better, but at least he could get to sleep for a few hours. Another man training to become a member of the priesthood was the one to talk him into going to confession. He told him it might help him get to sleep at night.

A good night’s sleep still didn’t come easy to him these days. At first he was just dealing with his grief. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dean’s face, that look of fear etched onto his features during his last moments. After maybe an hour he would give up on sleep, and would leave the now empty bed to seek out refuge in their living room. It was a few nights in without sleep that the hallucinations started.

They always felt like a bad trip. He would see figures, dark shadows lingering on the walls, moving all around his peripheral vision. Unlike a trip however, this time he heard voices. In the beginning it was just soft murmurs, whispers like a prayer...or a curse. Shortly after they started, one voice grew louder, more prominent, and every time he heard it he was sure he had to be going crazy.

_“Cas.”_

_“Cas, baby.”_

_“Cas, please, I need you.”_

He would always curl up on the sofa then, put his head between his knees and try to block out Dean’s voice. At first the voices would stop after that, but other nights he wasn’t so lucky. Other nights it just wouldn’t stop--not until he was a sobbing mess on the floor, struggling to breathe.

_“You let me down, Cas.”_

_“You should have saved me.”_

_“Cas, why didn’t you save me?”_

Castiel shook his head then, dismissing the memories before they could get the better of him. He was okay now. He just...had to remind himself every now and then. He gave a smile to a woman sitting at the pews, but let it drop when he noticed the look on her face.

Pity. He understood why people pitied him--after all, who wouldn’t feel anything for a grown man breaking under the weight of the world, under the weight of his loss. But he absolutely hated it. While he was trying to recover, to put on a smile and live his life again, no matter how much progress he thought he’d made he would see that look of pity in someone’s eyes and be reminded that it wasn’t working. That no matter how hard he was trying to move on, everyone knew that he was still suffering.

Cas retreated to the bathroom down the hall from the chapel, and locked the door behind him. He went to the sink and turned on the cold water, his gaze locked on his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen with dark circles underlining them. He sighed and leaned down, cupping his hands together under the faucet a moment before splashing water on his face. He grabbed several papertowels from the dispenser to dry his face, then crumpled them in his hands. As he stood straight again, he felt his shoulders tense before he saw the reflection. Behind him in the mirror stood Dean, staring at him with that wounded look in his eyes.

“Cas, please.” He dropped his head down against his chest, gripping the sides of the sink in his hands until his knuckles were white. “Cas, you gotta listen to me.”

“You’re not real,” he murmured, repeating those three words again and again like his own personal mantra. Whether he was talking to himself or to Dean… well he just wasn’t sure anymore.

His breathing grew heavy, bordering on a pant as he struggled for just one deep intake. He needed out. Out of the bathroom, out of the church, out of his own thoughts just long enough to calm down. With that in mind Castiel unlocked the door and threw it open, ignoring his name being called as he ran down the hallway. He ignored the curious glances thrown his way as he ran towards the back door of the church, practically hurling himself out into the fresh, autumn air when he finally reached it. Cas stared at the graves before him before dropping to the ground. He slid out of the way of the door, curling up against the brick siding.

“O-our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy na-ame, thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven-” he stuttered, curling in on himself with his head cradled in his hands. “Give- give us our- give us this-” he stopped and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Someone was shaking his shoulders, calling his name, but he shut them out. He struggled to remember the rest of the prayer, and settled on letting a sob escape him instead. These attacks weren’t as frequent as when he first joined the church months ago--they had actually stopped for some time--but something was changing. It was like every time he felt like he was healing, his mind decided to throw this reminder at him, to bring up the most painful images it could muster and leave him this shaking, sobbing mess. When he finally calmed down enough to breathe deeply and feel that all too familiar burning of his lungs fade away, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Cas breathed deeply through his nose as he stared up to meet a pair of big green eyes.

“Castiel?”

“They’re not right,” he murmured, voice cracking as he was pulled to his feet.

“Castiel, are you alright?”

Castiel looked down to meet the gaze of one of the younger priests that worked with the church, and felt his heart squeeze in his chest. No, of course his eyes weren’t right, they weren’t as bright, they weren’t as warm, they weren’t Dean’s.

“Castiel?” Jacob repeated, pulling him out of his reverie.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes just a moment as he again wiped them dry. “I’m sorry, I...I don’t know what came over me.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and looked around them, ensuring there was no one else around. “I saw him again,” his voice was small when he finally spoke up again.

The other young man frowned, his brows furrowed as he set a hand on his shoulder. “We can talk more inside. Father Donovan and Father Francis are out right now working with the nuns at the orphanage today, we can use their office, okay?”

Cas swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded as he followed the slightly shorter man back into the church. He was still on edge, noticeably so, but at least while he was with someone he found peace in knowing he wouldn’t see or hear anything strange. He kept his head down as they walked through the halls, too embarrassed to meet the gaze of anyone else that may have seen him earlier.

Once inside the safety of the office he took a seat on the small loveseat, leaving Jacob to go straight to the coffee maker that sat on a table against the opposite wall. He started to brew a pot then went to take a seat beside him, that same concerned look from outside still on his face. He was a good man, he was, it was just...that ever present look of pity in his eyes made Cas uneasy. It was like he wasn’t sure if he asked him about his thoughts and feelings because he genuinely cared or so he wouldn’t have to worry any longer.

“So what happened this time? I thought everything was calming down?”

Cas looked at his hands instead of at the other man, found greater comfort in the familiarity of the lines in his palm than the concerned look in his eyes. “I saw him again,” he murmured, running his finger down one of the curved lines in his palm down to his wrist. “He told me...I had to listen to him. I don’t know what he had to say, I just...ran.”

“What do you think he wanted you to hear?”

He shook his head, his lips forming a tight line. “I don’t know. I thought…” he stopped and gripped his fingers in his hand, his shoulders tense. In his dreams it was always the same--Dean would blame him for what happened, for not getting to him in time. When it was first put into words it was...well it was almost a relief to hear it. All the people he’d spoken with about Dean’s death, the paramedics, the coroner, friends, family, all told him the same thing--”don’t blame yourself, Castiel, there’s nothing you could have done.” But he knew better. He knew that if he had gone with him, if he had kept a closer eye on the other man, he could have saved him. He would have been there right when it happened, and done something, anything. To have his blame validated was like telling him it was okay to grieve, to go nights at a time without sleeping. It excused all of his self-destructive behavior.

“Castiel? What did you think?” Jacob asked, his voice gentle but still prying.

Cas frowned and rubbed at his eyes a moment more before meeting the other’s gaze. Dean had looked so tired, so exasperated. He was afraid he was going to tell him to move on, to suck it up and swallow his grief. Because if he did that, he would have nothing left.

“Nothing,” he said finally, forcing a smile on his face. “Well, not nothing. I thought it would...just be the usual nonsense. Really, Father Evans, I’m fine now. I appreciate your concern, but I will be just...fine.”

Jacob set a hand on his knee then, giving it a reassuring squeeze and looking at Cas with a smile. “Everything will be with time, Castiel. Just put your faith in God, and he will put you back on the path to everlasting happiness. I know it must have been hard to lose your...special friend, but life does move on. And God works in mysterious ways.”

Cas said nothing as he got to his feet, just gave the man the faintest of smiles and a nod. He left the office, and went to head back to the chapel, stopping when he noticed the two head priests walking the other way.

“Father Donovan, Father Francis,” he greeted, giving a nod to them both. He looked up to give them a smile, but let it fall when he noticed the state they were in. Father Donovan, usually a large, jolly man, wore a solemn expression. Francis, a thin, wiry wisp of a man had a black eye and a split lip, his jaw clenched. “What happened?”

Francis opened his mouth to speak but closed it once the older man set a hand on his shoulder. “There was a bit of a run-in with some young hooligan. Father Francis was waiting for me outside, and he was attacked. Nothing to worry about though, the police got their statement and promised to keep an eye out for the young man.” The two older men exchanged a look, and Donovan sighed before turning his attention back to Castiel, a smile on his face. “On the plus side, seeing the children again was really a wonderful time. You will have to see them sometime, Castiel, just so much energy and happiness. It might do you some good to be around such positivity.”

Castiel just nodded, realizing there was no point in even asking for more details on the injury--once Donovan changed the subject like that he would refuse to revisit what he had earlier said. “I will most definitely have to do that then.”

Donovan nodded, his eyes bright, and pat Cas’ shoulder as he walked by him. “Well, we’ll be going then. It seems that I will have to take over supervising the choir rehearsal as Father Francis will have other obligations, so unfortunately I will be more busy than usual. Would you mind doing a quick run through of the pews, make sure everything is clean and ready for tomorrow morning’s service?”

“Of course,” he murmured, putting a smile on his face until they were out of sight and back in Donovan’s office. Once alone he crossed his arms over his chest, and headed back towards the chapel.

 


End file.
